Poem for Day 180 – 20150629
A way of life fought for years ago,
power elite struggled for status quo.
Politicians sought to hold the line,
contest ended on the losing side.
Thousands died in battles lost,
loved ones remembered afterwards.
Monuments built to stamp in stone
the blood of those then gone.
Headstones erected to the dead,
honoring solder and veteran,
echoes placed by those who loved
the ones departed to the loam.
The wheel of years has turned around,
with groups of hatred in control
of heritage's objects once held dear,
long separated from a first intent.
Where is the place to honor the dead,
to place significance on past history?
Where does the remembrance of loss end,
the beginning of hate's queer taint begin?
Do we tear down the monuments,
erected by the women of the men?
Do we smash cold headstones
to move into the here and now?
Society is built on past's dismal swamp,
the mire is drained to heal the all.
What place will the fallen hold
when monuments have been destroyed?
© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.